IfI wereto writeevery dayfor onehundred days,would my soulbe purged ofthis malaise;is it a thingto be dredged,dragged up –twistedand tiedlike tatteredbed sheetsknottedtogether;is therea remedyfor thisscourge;or is thisan inherentrestlessness,a fiery bluespark of eternalangst ignitingpassion – a callto write? (Originally posted February, 2017. Image my own)
Lovely! Did the snow miss you?
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No. These were taken before the snow. We got pummelled, lol
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Oh, that’s too bad!
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Wonderful!
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😊
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So lovely! 🙂 ❤
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Thanks Deborah!
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😀
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